She's With The Band
by Race122VE
Summary: Glee AU fic. Santana Lopez loves being in a band and the best part is finding the blonde with the stunning blue eyes in the crowd.  One shot.


**Title:** She's With The Band  
**Author:** Race122VE (Coll)  
**Pairing:** Santana/Brittany  
**Rating:** NC-17  
**Summary:** Glee AU fic. Santana Lopez loves being in a band and the best part is finding the blonde with the stunning blue eyes in the crowd.  
**Word Count:** Over 5k.  
**Disclaimer:** All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual. Author's Note: This is a prompt from (who also beta'd)...so, thanks Mal! The song we both decided they played but I was too lazy to write in was "Heat Of The Moment" - Asia. That's pretty much it. Hope you guys enjoy it since I've discovered I can only write AU Brittana.

There is no greater high than this.

Santana may be standing on a small stage in a shitty dive bar in the worst part of Lima, OH, but she doesn't give a damn. Her fingers are plucking out the last few chords of their last encore song, Puck is belting out the last part of the chorus, and the crowd keeps chanting the band's name:

Smutty Playground.

Don't ask, she lost that vote.

She strikes the last chord, Puck's jumping all over the stage, Mike is over on the bass and managing to pull off some crazy dance moves with his instrument in hand, and Finn is tearing up the drums before slamming down on the final beat.

The crowd was cheering before, and now they're going fucking wild.

They kind of became this local sensation when they started the group during their first year of community college in the small town. All four members of the band were in the high school Glee Club, but always craved more rock and roll.

That's how it started. Just messing around, covering songs and sounding pretty damn good. Finn always played the drums, Mike picked up the bass in no time, and Puck played the guitar and they thought Santana would sing. When they found out Santana knew how to play, however, they flipped their shit and insisted she take the lead.

Puck called it a gimmick. Something to make their band stand out. Santana argued that they were a fucking cover band and that was their thing but, just like the battle for the name of their band, she lost and was dubbed their lead guitarist.

She didn't mind. With a name like Santana was she supposed to _not_ learn to play the guitar? Please.

They all sang too, really (except for Mike. Mike's always been quiet), so she just shrugged and went along with it.

Then she found out just how much action she got from playing the guitar. She knew the stereotype, she heard chicks dig guitars (hell she was one of them), but holy shit she never expected it to be this _good_.

When they first started playing at places like the place they're in now, Santana was shocked at all the women throwing themselves at her. Sure, most were playing the Katy Perry, bisexual bullshit to get the guys to notice them, but Santana got just as much action as they did.

Things kept progressing years since they started but they all agreed it wasn't something they wanted to actively pursue seriously. It was mostly a hobby cause they totally had jobs and stuff, but they would take gigs in other cities or bigger venues. Places like where they're at now, however, is where they were born and it's why they keep coming back despite their mild success.

"On guitar…give it up, once again, for Santana Lopez," Puck says into the microphone as he comes over, grabbing her arm and raising it above their heads. The crowd screams and he moves on to Finn, then Mike, continuing with the post show ritual of letting each member have their finale.

It all fades into the background (the cheering, Puck screaming rock star things, and the shuffling of instruments and feet) when she picks out one familiar set of eyes amidst at least fifty people.

The _bluest_ eyes she's ever seen.

The woman is right where she always is, so, even without the piercing eyes, Santana could find her almost immediately.

The time has blurred together since this blonde haired, blue eyed goddess had showed up at one of their shows, but she's been to every local one since, standing dead center in the middle of the floor and staring straight at Santana the whole time.

It was a little distracting, disarming even, at first, but, like she's said, chicks dig guitars so Santana just went with it. The whole thing felt a lot less creepy and stalker-ish when she actually spoke to the blonde after one of their shows.

She was leaning against the bar…well, over the bar, just about, trying to get the fucking bartender's attention (seriously, though, what bartender doesn't take care of the band first?) when the woman slid cautiously up next to her.

While Santana had hoisted herself up using a footrest that went around the bar, the blonde was taller, leaner, and easily fit right next to her with no leverage at all.

"Hey," she had said shyly, almost innocently, but when Santana turned and got swept up in the woman's gaze she just somehow could see the complete lack of innocence behind those eyes.

"Hey yourself," she said back, easily hiding the effect this woman has on her. What fun would it be to actually let this chick know that she could have Santana wrapped around her finger if she wanted to after only one word?

"You were pretty incredible up there," she told her, and Santana could hear the real excitement behind her calm tone. "Buy you a drink?"

"Sure," Santana smirked, but got annoyed when she remembered the bartender is a fucking moron. "If this asshole ever decides to come down to this side of the bar."

That innocent, but not really innocent, smile had spread across the woman's face again as she said, "Pick your poison."

Santana arched an eyebrow, not sure where she was going with this but very eager to play along, "Tequila."

The blonde laughed, nodded, and then lifted herself up and over the bar to quickly check out the selection beneath her. She snatched the bottle quickly, and without anyone noticing, and stepped back to reach into her pocket and retrieve a wad of bills. She threw a couple twenties on the bar and faced Santana. "Will this work?"

Moments later they were outside, tucked away in an alley next to the bar, and passing the bottle of Tequila between them.

The whole thing is this drunken blur in her mind, but Santana remembers some silence , the two of them just listening to the muted music still audible from the bar, before the blonde stuck her hand out and said, "Brittany, by the way."

There was a last name in there but, like she said, it's a drunken memory and the last name is probably the only thing she can't remember when it comes to Brittany.

"Santana," she returned and smiled when Brittany chuckled in response.

"I know," she told Santana. "You were _incredible_ up there."

It's what she had said before, but now that it's just the two of them Santana can fully appreciate the genuine awe behind the words and Brittany's expression.

That's what set her apart from all the rest.

Sure Brittany was hot and, it seemed, hot for Santana, but she also saw past that and was hot for the music and not many of the usual groupies were.

She was entranced with Brittany and didn't know how much time had passed between them, still sharing the Tequila, when Brittany blurted, "Wanna play 'I Never?'"

Normally, a badass, such as herself, would scoff at the idea of playing such a stupid game, but she knew, then and there, that there was no way she could say no to Brittany.

Now she knew how dangerous that was, back then it was adorable, hot, and endearing.

Santana had agreed, but insisted that Brittany started them off.

"OK," she began. "We'll start off easy…I never kissed a girl."

Brittany tipped the bottle back the moment the words were out of her mouth before holding it, expectantly, out to Santana.

The bottle was snatched with a pointed look towards Brittany before taking a swig of her own. Her fingers drummed against the neck of the bottle as she eyed Brittany, wanting to choose her 'I Never' carefully, "I never…had a one night stand."

Santana paused, waiting to see if Brittany would reach or flinch or react in any way other then the sexy grin that's been plastered on her face this whole time, before taking a long sip. She holds out the bottle, just like Brittany did, and can't help but celebrate inside a little when she takes it.

"I knew it," she muttered.

"You're one to talk, slut," Brittany teased back. "OK, I never…had sex in public."

Again, Brittany had taken a drink right away, no pause no nothing, and then handed the bottle to Santana who had an eyebrow raised but drank without saying anything.

"I never…"

There was a long break before Santana settled on (though, to this day, she doesn't know why she settled on this), "I never cheated on anyone."

She doesn't wait to see if Brittany will reach first, just takes a drink and hold the bottle out in front of her. After a minute, she hands the bottle to Brittany who takes it but doesn't drink.

Great.

Now Santana was the asshole that took this thing to a serious place. Good job, Lopez.

If it affected Brittany, she didn't show it and continued with, "I never had sex with more than one person in a day."

Brittany took a small sip but laughed at the way Santana's mouth hung open in annoyance. "You trying to get me drunk? Cause…I'm in a band so…a lot of these questions are just givens, you know?"

"Just trying to get to know you better," Brittany responded.

And they did.

They spent over an hour out there shooting questions back and forth, getting drunk, and just learning about each other. It was weird, but not bad necessarily.

What was bad, or more frustrating than anything, about that night was the fact that, other than the talking, _nothing happened_.

In fact, nothing has been happening since they met.

They play a show, Santana spots Brittany in the crowd, they drink and talk and Brittany leaves.

Santana has no idea why, either. They openly flirt with each other and hold hands or rub against each other in a very more than friends kind of way. It's the craziest and most confusing thing she's ever been a part of.

But she doesn't want to blow this…whatever the hell it is.

Brittany, inadvertently or not, has taken over Santana's mind. The guys give her shit, even though they've all spent some time around Brittany, enough to know they like her, because the fact is Santana hasn't been laid since they met and she's got the female equivalent of blue balls.

There's no way to eloquently put this, but she needs a good fuck. _Badly_.

They keep telling her to just pick one of the dozens of women that rush the stage door or hang around at the bar and wait for them to come out of the green room, but she can't. She belongs to Brittany, whether the blonde knows it or not, and no other girl can compare.

"She's _just_ a fucking groupie, Santana," Puck shouts when they're packing away the stuff left behind in the green room. "She's not even a good one. It's been almost two months and you still haven't gotten any action. You need to move on."

It's the same argument they've had, only this time Puck doesn't even wait for it to somehow be brought up. Santana finishes and heads for the door, throwing an 'I'll be at the bar' over her shoulder when Puck snaps.

"She's different," Santana tells him. "She's more than a groupie, and what the fuck do you care anyway?"

"This band is supposed to be about us screwing around and having fun," Puck responds, looking over to Mike and Finn for some back up, but they are purposely busying themselves with other things. Puck scoffs. "Bitches," he mutters before turning back to Santana. "You get all excited and jazzed for these local gigs. Then you see the girl, and you hang out with her all night. Nothing happens, then you're fucking miserable until we book the next show. I'm sick of it."

He's right.

It's not the first time he's said it and it still hurts just as much as the last times. Still, she's Santana Fucking Lopez, kick ass guitar player, and you do not fuck with her.

"Well maybe I won't burden you with my shit anymore," she says through gritted teeth, slamming the door hard enough to shake the frame behind her.

Just like all the other times, Mike runs after her. He grabs her by the elbow and spins her around, holding her firmly in place by the shoulders. He's usually spouting off some kind of 'don't listen to that asshole' thing, but right now he's looking at her and she knows he can see how much it's really affecting her.

He can see what Brittany is really doing to her, and he takes a deep breath before puffing it out and smiling. "I think it's time you say something," he says in a kind of cryptic way.

"To Puck?" she asks, her face screwing up in anger at the mere mention of the mohawked douche. "I already told that piece of shit what I thought-"

"I'm talking about the girl," Mike cuts in with a laugh. "Brittany. Dude…you like her, and that's cool…even if Puck started called her Yoko-"

"_Seriously_-"

"Point is," Mike rushes on, still smirking. "You should say something."

She fights the rush of warmth and appreciation that's welling up inside her, but then Mike has to continue to have this sweet fucking look on his face as he steps back, punches her in the arm, and walks back towards the green room.

"I like you better when you don't talk," she calls after him.

He doesn't turn when he shouts back, "You're a fucking terrible liar."

Once he's gone, Santana takes a second to lean against the wall and pull herself together. The whole situation was so nerve racking. It didn't bother her for so long because she knew there was something there with Brittany, but then she started getting sexually frustrated and Puck would joke around. Now it's just way too serious and a part of her doesn't even want to go out there.

When she reaches the end of the hall, she could just as easily go left instead of right and exit the bar, bum a cigarette off of one of the groupies hanging out by the band exit, and then take her home and fuck the shit out of her.

But that's not what she wants. Not anymore. Not since Brittany snatched that bottle of Tequila along with her heart.

Fuck, that shit is way too sappy to be running through her head.

She turns right and plants herself at the corner of the bar. Almost immediately, Brittany plops down next to her. Santana takes a moment to appreciate the blonde's ripped, tight jeans and a faded, one size too small (but in a very good way) band T shirt that looks familiar.

Santana freezes when she recognizes the band.

"You're _just_ noticing?" Brittany asks, bringing Santana's attention to her face.

Still, she can't help but continue to glance at Brittany's T shirt. "Where did you even get this?"

It's one of their bands first T shirts they made with their original name: Whore Lips (again, don't ask…it's just another battle she lost). There were only, like, fifty of them originally and Santana, along with the guys, each kept one, but seeing Brittany wearing one is just one of the greatest things she's ever seen.

"I have my ways," Brittany teases, turning to the bartender and ordering a couple of beers while Santana continues to stare. If it were any other of their crazy fans that stalk the band's Facebook page, she'd be worried, but it's not just any fan.

She's still curious as to the exact details of how Brittany got that shirt, but a different question leaves her mouth. "You wanna get a drink sometime?"

Brittany's brow furrows in confusion, but she's giggling at the question all the same. "We get drinks all the time," she points out, motioning to the beers that arrive in front of them. "We're drinking right now."

Santana sighs. She feels completely lame and useless and Brittany's looking back at her and silently demanding some sort of explanation for what's going on. She feels like she's backed into a corner and so tired of this amazing yet tedious song and dance they've been pulling for close to two months and she's ready to be done with it.

Of course, as soon as she opens her mouth to say something a song comes over the bar's touch tunes and makes it impossible to hear anything.

"Outside?"

Brittany nods, but not before finishing her full beer in about four long gulps and signaling the bartender again. Then she's leaning over the bar, whispering into the guy's ear, and slipping him some money in exchange for a bottle of Tequila.

She laughs as Brittany grabs her hand, tangling their fingers together, and drags them outside.

Between the shirt and the Tequila, it's all very nostalgic as they settle themselves opposite each other against the brick walls of the alley.

But there's still that spark lingering between them and, just to make it worse, Brittany is handing the bottle to Santana and biting her lip. "You guys did original stuff tonight," she says conversationally. "I thought it was really good."

"Yeah?" Santana hates how self conscious she sounds, but they did two original songs tonight and she wrote one of them.

Brittany nods in response, accepting the bottle that she's handing back. She waits for Brittany to say something else about the songs. Something like, oh, which one she liked the most. Santana doesn't want to prompt Brittany like a loser, but she can't help herself.

"Which one did you like better?"

Brittany's laughing at her again. "Duh," she says. "The one you wrote."

Santana doesn't even have to ask how Brittany knows which song she wrote, but she does feel the urgent need to get this over with.

To finally define their relationship.

"What are we doing, Brittany?"

Her eyes look around the alley and she shakes the bottle that she's holding. "Drinking?"

"I mean this," Santana motions between them. "_Us_."

"We're friends," Brittany shrugs, still acting weirdly nonchalant and kind of freaking Santana the fuck out.

"Friends?"

"What?" Brittany tilts her head to the side in thought.

Obviously, this isn't going to be as easy as she thought.

She's shocked into silence and Brittany takes the opportunity to keep drinking, but when Santana finds her voice she has to reign in her frustration and anger. "You think of me as a friend?" she asks in disbelief. "And…that's _all_?"

The bottle falls from her mouth and she looks back at Santana with a completely blank expression. She's just staring, her eyes shifting but never leaving Santana's face.

Conversation has always come so natural between them. It's pretty impressive given the short time they've actually known each other. That's why this is like torture.

Standing, facing Brittany, and just _waiting_ for her to say something.

She's not used to it, she doesn't like it, and she feels an argument building up inside of her.

Brittany beats her to it though, her expression still calm and unchanging. "Do you want something more?"

The question is more curious than anything, like Brittany hasn't been handsy and flirty for the past two months.

It also feels like a punch in the face, because, now, Santana's this freak that's concocted this fictional beginning to an epic relationship in her mind that Brittany, apparently, never even thought about to begin with.

"Don't you?" she shoots back, unable to hide the disappointment in her voice. "I mean…Christ, Brittany. You tracked down that fucking shirt you're wearing. I love that shirt, I've told you…what the fuck am I supposed to think?" She's lost all control of her emotions now and is now fully preparing for this thing to fall apart.

"You're in a band," Brittany explains. "You're talented, you've got this presence, and…I didn't expect us to get along so well. I mean…I had to tone down my excitement when we started _actually_ talking. But you're in a band."

Brittany throws her free hand up in the air, signaling the end of her explanation and Santana's not entirely sure if she should understand, should be satisfied with that response.

She decides that she's not. "What does that mean?"

"We played 'I never' that first night," Brittany continues. "And…I just…I really got a grasp about what you're life is like. What it's _been_ like since you and your friends decided that it would be cool to be in a band. I'm not exactly innocent, but I don't want to be just another groupie to you. Just another girl that you fuck and forget about."

"That's so fucking dumb, Brittany," Santana basically yells, throwing her head back to lean against the brick. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever fucking heard. Honestly."

Brittany laughs bitterly. "I had a feeling you were going to be all shitty about me being honest-"

"You think you're just another girl for me to fuck?" Santana finds Brittany's eyes and locks on to them, promptly cutting the blonde off. "Just another groupie? I mean, yeah…you're really hot and I've got a long mental list of the things I want to do to you…

"Regardless," she pauses, takes a deep breath, and tries to focus on fixing Brittany's mindset. "Ever since I've met you, I can't stop thinking about you. I know it's been two months, and only a handful of these local gigs…and before the best feeling in the world was that final wave of screams from the crowd, but now it's picking you out in the audience. It's finding you after. It's this."

After another lengthy, agonizing pause Brittany smirks back, trying to hold in laughter.

"Really?" Santana asks even though she's smiling too and trying not to laugh with Brittany. "I'm, like, telling you how I feel and you're trying not to fucking laugh?"

"It's just really cheesy," Brittany chuckles. "Very…un-Santana."

The laughter is still dying off when Santana replies, "But very true."

"Yeah?" Brittany asks seriously, seeking reassurance.

It's like their roles are reversed.

Usually Brittany is saying all these amazing things about the band, about Santana, and she always gets self conscious and has to clarify, asking 'yeah' and Brittany always says it (and means it) right back. This time, Santana means it when she repeats, "Yeah."

There's still a weird energy between them as they fall silent. Brittany's still smiling, so Santana takes comfort in that as well as the bottle of Tequila Brittany is offering her. "So…you want to go steady or something?" Brittany teases as Santana takes a drink. "You want me to be your girl?"

Santana tips the bottle back one more time before setting it on the ground and stepping forward. The alley's not that wide, so she's automatically in Brittany's space. She steps forward too, her hands reaching out to play with the hem of Santana's shirt.

When Santana's hands come up to rest on Brittany's hips, she still sees the blonde hesitate, sees how unsure she is of this.

So Santana shows her how sure _she_ is.

Her hands move around Brittany's waist and she pulls their bodies together and steps them back, slamming Brittany against the brick wall and kissing her firmly.

The jolt that simple touch of their lips sends throughout Santana's body is surprising and thrilling at the same time. It's enough for her to press in harder, to settle into Brittany's body and let her hands slip under Brittany's shirt and flatten against the small of her back.

Brittany, who has been, apparently, stunned into submission, takes a moment before sliding her hands up Santana's body to rest on either side of her neck as she returns the pressure.

It's nice, tame, sweet, but not nearly enough for Santana.

Her tongue darts out to deepen the kiss and finds that Brittany's already waiting for her, welcoming her, like she knew Santana's plan of attack. The contact rips a groan from her throat and Brittany giggles against her lips.

Santana responds to that by tugging on Brittany's bottom lip with her teeth, she watches as it catches the blonde off guard and moves down to Brittany's neck, humming her approval into the soft skin. Her lips move along Brittany's jaw, and she jumps when Santana hits a sensitive spot just below her ear.

"Damn," Brittany hisses, her hands now tangled in Santana's hair with her nails digging into her scalp. "Why didn't we do this sooner?"

"Your fault," she mumbles, not letting the deep, sexy sound of Brittany's voice distract her from her task.

The laugh she receives in response is not helping her concentrate.

At all.

Taking on a mind of their own, her hands move further south, but Brittany, still laughing, squirms under Santana, gripping her shoulders and pushing her away a little. She can't help the pout that appears on her face and Brittany brings her hand up, running her thumb along Santana's bottom lip and smiling sweetly.

"Getting a little frisky there," Brittany comments quietly.

"Two months, Brittany," she fires back, trying to move back in for another kiss, but Brittany manages to dodge the advance. "Seriously, you're lucky that this isn't a done deal already."

Brittany's eyebrows shoot up. "Oh really?" she responds. "But…don't you think it's a little trashy for us to fuck out in an alley?"

"You're so full of shit," Santana laughs back. "You're the one that brought up sex in public places when we first met."

"That's true."

"Also," Santana begins, pushing back and smiling when Brittany lets her. "Baby…this is only round one for tonight."

Brittany opens her mouth to banter back, but Santana is done talking. She leans back in and presses their bodies against each other again as her eyes search Brittany's for any more signs of hesitance, or for some kind of green light. Because if Brittany really does not want to do this here she needs to know so she can get them back to her apartment as soon as possible.

But there's a glassy haze in her blue eyes and Santana lets her lips hover over Brittany's, silently suggesting this is her call, her decision. She's not even embarrassed by the loud moan when Brittany leans forward and captures her mouth, kissing her with a desperation that Santana knows all too well.

They've been doing this song and dance long enough and, even if it is kind of trashy and clichéd, Santana's just happy that Brittany needs this just as much as she does.

Suddenly, Brittany's pushing back harder, so much so that she slams Santana into the opposite wall and abandons her mouth to kiss down her neck. She lets out a breathy chuckle as the blonde nips her way down to Santana's collar bone as her hands go directly for the front clasp of her jeans.

She should be pointing out the irony of Brittany being the one to slide her hand into Santana's jeans while the other finds its way under her shirt, but she's not talking anymore and, honestly, she couldn't if she wanted to because Brittany is running a finger slowly through her heat that has been slowly building since she got off stage.

It's hot, but it's not enough and her legs spread, hinting Brittany to get on with it. She knows Brittany is teasing her and she's about to remind her that it's been two months when Brittany lifts her head to smirk evilly at her as she pushes two fingers inside Santana.

Santana moans her approval as her legs buckle from the strain of trying to stay upright. Brittany slides her free hand around to shift Santana securely against the wall and to help hold her steady as she slowly slides her fingers out, then in again.

As she cants her hips against Brittany's hand and develops a rhythm her hands find their way around Brittany's neck, grasping the shirt and scratching her nails against her back. Brittany's eyes squeeze shut against the touch and she begins pumping into Santana faster and deeper.

She feels herself getting close and a part of her hates it because she doesn't want this to be over so soon after just starting, but then Brittany kisses her softly, letting her tongue roll around lazily with Santana's, and she can't find it in her to be self conscious or care when Brittany's thumb presses down and circles her clit.

Santana comes soon after, tearing her mouth away from Brittany's and burying her face in the blonde's neck, savoring the warm weight of Brittany's body against hers and the waves of pleasure spreading throughout.

Brittany's grip on her is firm and gentle all at the same time.

It's _safe_ and Santana feels herself still clinging tightly as Brittany's head turns and presses a kiss into her hair. She's still shaking and unsteady as the blonde pulls out and brings her hand around to join the other.

"Fuck that was amazing," she mumbles, lifting her head and resting her cheek against Brittany's. "And to think…you almost ruined that."

A genuine, deep laugh comes from Brittany and Santana smirks back. "Ha!" Brittany says back. "Well, I had to resist the urge to throw up when you started saying all that mushy shit before-"

"Hey," Santana pouts and Brittany giggles. "Whatever, you know you ate that shit up."

Brittany responds by leaning forward, kissing Santana sweetly.

She has to hide the stupid, love struck grin that spreads across her face when Brittany pulls back. "You're adorable," she tells Santana. "Like a fluffy duck or something."

"OK, now you're pushing it."

"As much fun as this is," Brittany starts, her laughter trickling off and her voice coming out in hot, sexy breathes as her hands comes up to grip at the front of Santana's shirt. "I think it's about time we get started on round two."

They both jump at a sudden vibration coming from Santana's pocket. Brittany merely arches an eyebrow and Santana rolls her eyes, producing her phone and holding it up for Brittany. She slides her phone up, seeing that she has a message. "It's the guys," she groans. "It's shot time."

Shot time was a post band ritual. They always all did a shot together, no matter how good or bad the set was or how many chicks were trying to drag them away from the club. She looks at the message then back up to Brittany, looking helpless and torn.

Brittany, who knows damn well about shot time and its importance, bends down and picks up the bottle of Tequila, jiggling it enticingly.

"Britt…"

"It's OK," she tells Santana, slumping her shoulders in defeat but smiling none the less. "We're not going to stick around though after because you owe me-"

"_We_?" she cuts in, kind of liking the way it sounds.

"Yeah," Brittany shrugs like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "I'm with the band."

Santana wants to respond, but Brittany moves her free hand down to clasp Santana's pants before grabbing her hand and tangling their fingers together. "Come on," she says, yanking Santana with her. "Shots then sex."

When they get to the street, Brittany goes to turn towards the bar but Santana stops them. Brittany turns and tilts her head to the side in curiosity, silently asking what's on Santana's mind.

"This is kind of a big deal," Santana tells her. "The guys have been giving me crap about this for a while and-"

"Hey," Brittany cuts in, squeezing Santana's hand reassuringly. "You're thinking about this too much. It's very sweet, but unnecessary. You know I can handle the guys…I mean, the only one I have to really handle is Puck."

"Yeah, he's being a douche tonight."

"Just tonight?" Brittany jokes. "Look, I've been your girlfriend for fifteen minutes and it's been just as long since I got laid as you so I'm really horny and we're going to stick to the genius plan I came up with: shots then sex."

Brittany tugs her hand again, but Santana's still rooted in place. "Santana?" she prompts, annoyed.

"You're my girlfriend."

It's not a question and the way Brittany is looking back at her tells Santana that she didn't take it that way.

"Come on," Santana says, stepping forward and pulling Brittany close to her body. "Shots then sex."


End file.
